


The Chronicles of Miriam Locksley

by thisisamadhouse



Series: Have we met before? [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, featuring the Peanut who is not called Robyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisamadhouse/pseuds/thisisamadhouse
Summary: compilation of my entries for Cherish the Peanut Week and prompts about Baby Girl Locksley





	1. Things you said too quietly

Ever since she has been placed in his arms, Robin has had trouble letting the pink bundle go. Each exams by the pediatrician to make sure that the accelerated development of the pregnancy, and way too early Delivery, had no immediately noticeable consequences on his baby girl, had him hovering anxiously behind the woman performing the tests. He was restless, his hands closing into fists every once in a while until the baby was back, her little head resting in the crook of his elbow.

It still feels unreal, he had thought they would have more time to figure things out, that they would be in a better place to welcome this child. He realises how uneasy Regina still is about this whole mess, with good reasons, how hurt she had been in New York when she had found out what had happened, and though she has buried it all for his and Roland’s sake, he would love nothing more than to know what thoughts are really swirling behind the dark and soft eyes that look between him and his daughter.

Though he is grateful for his baby girl, despite the quite horrifying circumstances surrounding her conception, he can’t help but feel cheated of being able to fully share this with Regina. It should be  _their_ daughter he holds protectively,  _their_ daughter he isn’t quite sure he wants to put in the car seat, even though his love told him that it is the safest way to travel with an infant.  _Their_  daughter he is bringing home after supporting Regina through the delivery, not this mockery he had to endure with Zelena.

He has no doubt that Regina will love this baby as her own, the way she does with Henry and Roland, but everything that happened, everything that led to his daughter’s existence will always be a stain between them, and he would just want to be sure that they can get through this unscathed, or at the very least if they can rebuild something that has a chance to last.

Since New York, they have barely had the chance to sit down and talk about their situation, their future, mostly they had to go through the motion of dealing with all the crisis that hit the town one after the other following Emma becoming the new Dark One. He just wants a break, just a few quiet moments for them to get their bearings back and discuss where they are going, now that this has all become very concrete.

When they enter the manor he is almost relieved that Roland is at the Merry Men camp for the night, he has been postponing talking to his boy about the new addition to their family for a while now, and having to tell him right after bringing said addition home for the first time doesn’t sound exactly right to him. He sighs, shifting the sleeping baby a bit to help Regina bring in the necessities the hospital and Snow provided for them. He is a little overwhelmed at the amount of things a newborn seems to need in this world, most of which he has no idea what they are even used for.

When they finally settle the bassinet in the master bedroom, he feels the emotional and physical exhaustion of the day catching up with him, but he is painfully aware that sleep will be coming in very short supplies in the days to come.

“You should get some rest, I’ve got her,” Regina whispered, standing at the door of the ensuite where she had disappeared to get changed, and probably to regroup as well if the time she spent in there is any indication.

He wants to object, he wants to say that she needs rest as much as he does, if not more, that he can handle this, but she has crossed the few steps between the door and the bed before the words he has formed in his head can be out of his mouth and has placed a finger against his lips. She smiles softly, her eyes roaming his face, lingering on the dark circles, the way his eyelids droop, the more pronounced lines on his forehead.

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one with the most chances of falling asleep and staying that way, it’s alright, I’ve got her,” she insists and he can’t argue much with that. Sleep has never come easy to her and he doubts today could have possibly helped, he may as well take advantage while he can.

Her smile widens slightly when she sees he is wavering and she holds out her arms for him to transfer the baby into. He observes her reactions when the baby whimpers a bit at being moved, how Regina holds her breath until the tiny little girl snuggles her head into her chest to feel her warmth and settles contently there.

She moves to her side of the bed and gets under the covers without taking her eyes away from the precious swaddled package. She sits up straight, her back against the headboard and he doesn’t feel like getting up to change and miss a second of this. He lies down on his side, facing his girls, and he feels his muscles relaxing for the first time that day. His eyelids feel heavy and it takes him a moment to realise that Regina is speaking to the baby, so quietly he can barely hear.

“Well, here we are, certainly a bit earlier than I thought. I’ll be honest, it’s going to take some time to adjust but I will do whatever it takes to make it work, sweetheart. You are the only one who is completely innocent in all of this, you did nothing wrong, and I will make sure you never doubt that, I will make sure you are loved and cherished, I promise you that,” she says, touching her forehead to the baby’s, letting out a faint chuckle that almost sounds like a sob when the girl’s face scrunches adorably.

“You’ve got that Mills’ expression spot on on your first try. Things will be rocky from time to time, given your lineage, and this town’s tendency to go completely mad over the slightest things, but you are now part of a strong family, filled with hopeful people who never give up, even when you tell them bluntly that they really should. This family looks after each and every one of its members, we will protect you, forever and always.”

A tear slides down Robin’s cheek as she finishes, he presses his face against her hip. “Thank you,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of her pyjamas and he grasps one of her hands in his, squeezing it. He falls asleep like that, holding onto his girls, feeling a bit more secure about their future.    


	2. Roland and the mystery of the baby sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roland is confused about the sudden appearance of this new little sister and asks for some explanations.

Roland doesn’t quite know how it happened. How suddenly he has a baby sister with a tuft of blonde hair that turns red when hit by the right light, wide blue eyes that follow him with interest, and pink lips that stretch into a smile and let escape gurgles and babbles. Babies are supposed to grow in a mommy’s belly, but his sister wasn’t in Regina’s tummy. Henry wasn’t either though, and he is still Regina’s son, so things are not very clear on that front.

A lot of things feel fuzzy to Roland, he has dreams of a woman with brown hair and brown eyes that he called Mama, of a big, noisy city with strange buildings taller than palaces and lots and lots of people and horseless carriages, but he was never in this place and his Mama is long gone. The grownups say he will understand when he is older, but Roland wants to know now. He wants to know why Papa and Regina are sad when he asks if Regina is his sister’s mother.

He wants to know why they fought sometimes, before the baby arrived, so loudly that Henry had to try and distract him, but he still heard. Fights, hurtful words and slammed doors in the evenings that left his Papa and his Gina with red-rimmed eyes and hoarse voices in the mornings, whispered apologies and tentative touches.

He wants to be a big boy now and know things like Henry does, he wants to be Regina’s brave knight again, a hero who protects his little sister, even though he isn’t exactly sure what her arrival means for their little family. Most of all he just wants to call Regina “Mama”, and not feel that little pang in his chest as if he isn’t supposed to.

Roland had always been a sound sleeper when living in the Forest, lulled by the hooting of owls, the rustling of the wind in the leaves, the reassuring murmur of a flowing river, but it all changed when they came to live in Regina’s castle. While he enjoyed it immensely by day, always looking for his next adventure, more often than not in the company of the Queen herself, by night he found the silence stifling, and now that he and his Papa have come to leave in the big mansion in Storybrooke, no matter how many sheeps he counts, his swirling with thoughts mind won’t let him find rest.

It’s really no surprise that he hears the little cries of his hungry sister coming from the bedroom where his Papa and Regina sleep, even if it’s all the way up the hall from his own room. He gets up, barefoot, his little toes wriggling against the colder floor, and he heads into the corridor. He opens the door to their room cautiously and spots his Gina sitting in the armchair by the window, feeding the baby a bottle. Ever so watchful, her head snaps up the second the door creaks, and she sends him a puzzled smile when she sees him standing there.

She whispers a ‘Come here, sweetie’ and he silently hurries to her. His Papa is sleeping soundly, his familiar light snore echoing in the room along with the suckling noises from his sister.

“You can’t sleep, can you, honey?” Regina states more than asks in a soft voice, stroking his cheek gently with her thumb.

Roland shakes his head, eyes fixed on the baby as he presses himself close to the chair.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart?” She tries again and he shrugs. “You know you can tell me anything, my little knight.”

He looks up at her when he hears his very own royal nickname and he bites his bottom lip, unsure if he should voice his doubts, but it’s his Gina, his Majesty, looking at him with warm eyes and a smooth hand tangling in his wild curls.

“I just don’t understand where she is from,” he says, indicating the baby. “You and Papa told me she is my sister, but I never heard about her before, and then she was here, just like that,” he is frustrated and tired and confused.

“It’s complicated Roland,” she starts and he huffs petulantly, bowing his head, but she is not finished and she raises his chin to look him in the eyes. “It is complicated and painful, and believe me when I say that I wish we could spare you all this. She is your sister, you have the same father, and how she came into the world doesn’t mean we have to love her any less,” she explains as the baby finishes her bottle, heavy eyelids blinking sleepily. Regina brings her up against her chest, caressing her back.

“But she isn’t yours,” Roland whispers.

“She is mine, like Henry and, I hope, you are. Family is about much more than carrying a child, Roland, it’s more than blood, it’s a choice and I chose you and your father and Henry, and now I’m choosing this baby as well,” Regina replies. “Come here,” she adds, prompting him to climb on her lap. “See, there is enough space to hold you both, and there is definitely enough space to love you all in here,” she presses his little hand against her heart.

“So you’re our Mama, the three of us?” he asks, just to be sure, snuggling as close to her as physically possible and joining his other hand over hers on his sister’s back.

“If you wish me to be,” she answers, trying to hide the fleeting moment of insecurity and doubt that squeezes her insides before he nods eagerly.

“I would like that,” he says, smiling hugely, his dimples showing. He grows serious after a moment. “You will tell me everything one day? About her?”

Regina sighs. “One day, yes, we will tell you.”

“Okay,” he says simply, and then is startled by the loud burp the baby lets out.

Regina chuckles. “I guess this means this little one is ready for bed, shall we?”

Roland bites his lip again. “Can I stay here tonight?” He asks shyly.

“Of course you can, sweetheart, you never need to ask.”

They rise up and Regina places the now sleeping baby carefully in the little bassinet they have settled beside the bed while they’re finishing the nursery, and presses a kiss to her brow, Roland imitates her and then grabs her hand. They get under the covers, Roland immediately embracing Regina, resting his head against her chest. Their movements cause Robin to open a bleary eye.

“Everything alright?” He mutters.

“Everything is fine, our boy just needed some proper cuddle time,” Regina tells him, and Roland relishes in the ‘our’.

“Who doesn’t,” Robin says, surrounding them with a heavy arm and falling back in his slumber.

For the first time in days, Roland feels the pull of sleep trying to drag him away and he doesn’t resist. He is safe and they will all be alright, because they have Regina by their side, and nothing bad can happen to them with Regina on their team, right?


	3. Daddy's girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where Robin struggles with combing the Peanut’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from a prompt by [ sometimesangryblackwoman](http://sometimesangryblackwoman.tumblr.com) : Robin struggles with combing Peanut's hair.

Robin has always believed himself to be quite a resourceful man, never to be hindered by such petty things as locks or magical shields when he was on a job. He has come across several Dark Ones, a dragon turning sorceress, vengeful knights and sheriffs, a wicked green witch (though that last one is someone he would rather forget about), but when it comes to his daughter’s hair, Robin is certain he is facing his greatest challenge.

At two years-old, and already very opinionated, though he would expect nothing else of a girl who is half Mills -more than half he is quite sure most days-, Miriam has grown a mass of red curls atop her head that are as wild and untameable as the girl herself.

Robin can’t say it didn’t leave a bitter aftertaste to see the blonde baby locks turn redder and redder as time went by. He had hoped against hope that his daughter wouldn’t have to live with the constant reminder of her unfortunate inheritance, that she wouldn’t have to face the not so fairytale-like world with eyes full of distrust watching her from every corner, waiting for the signs of Zelena’s legacy to appear through her.

It was Regina who made him see things differently, who told him that those red curls weren’t some curse that would hinder their little girl’s life when it was barely starting. She said that Miriam had simply taken the most beautiful parts of her family, like the Locksley’s trademark dimples, Robin’s eyes, Regina’s smile, Roland’s energetic nature, Henry’s ability to hope and believe no matter what… and mixed it into something that was uniquely her, her own bland of magic more light and pure than anything Regina or Emma could ever attempt to emulate.

So he had relaxed slightly, and had given a chance to Storybrooke to prove him wrong. He hadn’t been disappointed, though it would take a rather cold heart to resist his daughter’s toothy grins and unstoppable squeals when Granny would steal her from their booth at the diner to make her test her latest milkshake, or when Ruby would parade her around, proclaiming she had found her new assistant waitress, even managing to get a smile out of the grumpiest dwarf they know.

Life is good these days, their little family has been able to settle into a quiet routine that is very welcome after the events of the past few years, but tonight the routine is disrupted. Regina is usually the one taking care of Miriam’s hair, it’s their moment together, ‘girls being girls’ as Henry calls it, but she is held back by Mary Margaret and the committee at Town Hall over some business with the upcoming fair.

“They are dragging this along unreasonably,” she had groaned when she had called him to say she wouldn’t be home for dinner, and could he please handle Miriam’s bath while she tried to be there for bedtime.

He had turned for one second, one second to tell her that of course he would, and he was sorry she would miss this moment she cherished so much, and ‘Love, just kick their asses if it means you can be here in time for Miri’s story.” One second to relish in her amused chuckle and her quiet thanks for attempting to lift her spirits.

He should have known better. When he had hung up and turned back to his daughter, he had found that she had decided to make a close comparison between the red of her hair and the tomato sauce of her pasta… a very close comparison. The sight had given him pause and he had had a delayed reaction, wondering for a moment if he should take a picture for Regina to make her laugh. He had snapped it, deciding to store it away with the rest of the embarrassing moments that would come in handy when boyfriends or girlfriends would enter the scene, and then he had swooped Miriam from her highchair with an amused “Off to the bathroom with you.”

Here comes the part where he is puzzled, because for all his resourcefulness, he can’t figure out which one of the dozen hair products standing on the shelves in the corner of the bathtub will be useful to him, and he is pretty sure that given the blast Miriam is having in her imaginary world of yellow rubber ducks cruising around the globe in search of adventure, he will be soaked to the bone before he starts reading the label of the second bottle.

“If only Mom had left an instruction sheet like the one she writes so I don’t burn dinner,” he sighs and Miriam looks up at him, showing off all her white pearly teeth, giggling lightly and pointing to a bright pink and white bottle.

“Papa wash Miri’s hair?” She asks, and there is just a hint of doubt in her expression, as if she isn’t quite sure he is competent enough to do it. He doesn’t exactly disagree, but it’s only because his pride is hurt that he fakes confidence and grabs the shampoo to pour some into his palm.

He hesitates again as Miriam obediently turns her head and inclines it backwards, not certain how to proceed, he thinks he remembers something Regina said about not messing with the curls too much when washing them so he starts to gently massage Miri’s scalp.

He understands why Regina loves to do it so much, he finds it soothing and his daughter seems to approve. That is until he encounters a knot full of tomato sauce and tugs a bit too hard. Miriam protests and he apologizes, wincing, as if it had hurt him as much as it did her.

He also realises why Roland’s hair have always looked so wild: they had never bothered this much to properly take care of them when living in the woods, by the time they had come to live in Storybrooke, and then with Regina, it was too late.

He rinses Miri’s locks carefully, protecting her eyes, and she points to another bottle, a ‘conditioner’ he reads on the label along with the instructions. He finds it amusing how it is Miriam who is leading the show, and he is just a silent helper, working his way through the confusing world of cosmetics. It’s strange how it only hits him now that she has acquired so many of Regina’s mannerisms.

He knows how difficult it was for Regina to embrace her role as Miri’s mom. She has no trouble loving the child, has let her into her heart the moment she had set eyes on her in the hospital, probably even before that, but while being Roland’s ‘Mama’ is easy, his son’s adoration of her no secret ever since their year in the Enchanted Forest, their relationship built over time, through Regina’s grief and Roland’s lack of a loving mother figure, into a tight and loving complicity Robin has found himself jealous of at times, with Miriam things are different, there are still so many unresolved issues between them and Zelena that he had feared it would hinder any attempt Regina would make to connect with the child.

He sees it sometimes, the doubt in his love’s eyes, the insecurities, the wonder if one day Miri will reject her the way Henry once did, and he also knows that she still feels guilty over Zelena’s actions. She asked him once if he would ever be able to forgive her for the hell he was put through because of her, because he was the surest way Zelena had found to hurt her, and he was so stunned he couldn’t answer. By the time he was able to form words again, she had read his silence wrong and turned away. Miri’s looks doesn’t help but Regina’s strength and ability to take in stride whatever cards life had decided to deal her with never fail to amaze him. He doesn’t think she has noticed that Miri will always be more her daughter than she could ever be Zelena’s.

He is so lost in thought he doesn’t notice that Miriam is standing up, ready to be taken out of the bathtub, until she decides to attract his attention by splashing him. It does the trick and his attempt to scowl only makes his daughter laugh. He dries her off, stopping when she shakes her head as he is about to towel dry her hair.

“Not how Mama does it,” she says, taking the towel from him and putting on her shoulders. “Pyjamas, please,” she demands sweetly in that special way of the Mills women where they make you believe you have the option to refuse them but really you don’t.

She skips to the master bedroom in her feet-in bright yellow pyjamas, making no sound on the hardwood floor. He follows and finds her sitting at the vanity on the pile of cushions Regina keeps to prop Miri up. He grabs the brush but she tsks him.

“Silly Papa! This one,” she exclaims, giving him a wide-tooth comb.

He takes a deep breath and gets to work, surprised by how easy it is to comb the curls into something resembling their usual state. When he is done they hear the door opening downstairs and Miriam runs away.

“No running in the stairs, Miriam, you know better,” Robin says, but she doesn’t slow down.

“Mama, Mama, you’re home,” he hears Miriam call out, and he smiles when he makes his way to the hall and sees his daughter in Regina’s arms, his love eyeing critically the girl’s hair.

“Your Papa did this all by himself?” Regina asks, quirking a brow.

Miri nods. “I helped,” she adds.

Regina grins. “I’m sure you did,” she replies and turns to Robin. “Not bad though, for a first time.”

Robin inclines his head, relieved that she approves. “Next time, I wouldn’t mind you being there to guide me.”

“I will be,” she says, exchanging an Esquimau kiss with Miriam and puffing up the roots of the red hair with her fingertips. “I may even share some tips.”

He stands at the bottom of the stairs, watching them, Regina twirling a curl around a finger, Miri pulling her Mama’s dark locks away from her face, they look so good together, like they belong, and he will make sure they never doubt it. Miri might have inherited Zelena’s look, but she is more Regina’s daughter than any of them could have ever expected her to be.


	4. Mother knows best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where a Disney song drives Regina crazy and she reacts too strongly.

It is unbelievable how such a silly song can drive her so crazy. She never should have allowed this movie night in the first place, not when this particular movie was chosen anyway. A breach on the ban on Disney films they had decreed right after Roland had stumbled on the animated version of Robin Hood, and they had found him pressed against the screen, tracing the lines of a foxy Marian, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Apart from their brief encounter with Rapunzel when David had reunited her with her parents in the Enchanted Forest, they weren’t familiar with the Princess or her story, so they had thought Tangled was safe. They had been wrong. When the first note of the song had resounded, Regina had felt a familiar icy sensation forming in her insides, building with each word Mother Gothel had pronounced, the voice grating on her every nerves, calling back reminiscences she would rather had stayed buried.

She had had to excuse herself as the song had climaxed, Rapunzel embracing her so-called Mother, feeling safe with her tormentor, not knowing any better. She had pretended to need to prepare a refill on hot chocolate, but her hands had been trembling so much that she had to wait several minutes, using every breathing techniques she had ever learned with Archie, to get herself under control. She had stayed away long enough to be sure the song would be over when she would get back.

The rest of the movie had been a silent torture. She had recognized so much of her young self in Rapunzel that she had flinched during every interaction between Rapunzel and Gothel, and had felt an overwhelming jealousy when Rapunzel had managed to successfully escape. If only it had ended there, with a short, brown haired Rapunzel making a triumphant return to the kingdom she had been ripped from, back into the arms of her true parents.

However, Miriam has developed something close to veneration for the young Princess, and the next morning she has used her still wild magic to grow several additional feet of curly red hair. Regina can deal with a lot of things, she can deal with her five-years-old daughter proudly standing in the master bedroom to show her her accomplishment while the end of her hair is still in her own, she can deal with having to resort to magic to brush and braid the red mass into something manageable, she can deal with Miriam attempting to sing the healing song because she wants to keep ‘her Mama young and pretty and with her forever’, she can deal with all of that, but when Miriam starts to hum the dreaded tune, Regina can’t answer for anything anymore.

She is standing in the kitchen, cutting pieces of bacon to add to the sizzling pan for her ravenous children and lover, Robin, Henry and Roland staring dumbfounded at Miri’s new hairstyle, while the girl sings ‘Mother knows best’, oblivious to Regina’s increasingly agitated state. The trembling starts again, and she almost nicks her finger. Suddenly, she slams the knife down on the counter and snaps.

“Stop singing this awful song, Miriam!”

The silence that follows is deafening. Four heads raising towards her in utter surprise, the smallest of them staring with wide eyes and quivering lips, never having heard this tone from her mother before. Regina is frozen in her spot, not recognizing the voice as her own. She can’t handle the look on Miri’s face and leaves the kitchen in a hurry.

“Mama,” she hears her daughter calling, but she doesn’t trust herself not to fall apart.

She finds refuge in the ensuite bathroom, clenching the sink so hard her knuckles turn white and she looks up in the mirror, startled by her ashen face and haunted eyes. Years after their trip to the Underworld, years after she had settled her differences with her mother, after they had put the past to rest once and for all, she had thought her memories would no longer trouble her, but nothing can erase all the abuse she has suffered at Cora’s hand.

What can she tell Miriam? How can she explain that hearing this song, that seems so catchy to the little girl, sends her in a swirl of dark thoughts, hurtful words, harmful magical injuries that left scars usually invisible to the rest of the world and some not so much, as she remembers the mother that used to control her, body and thoughts, as long as she could? How can she explain to her that not every mothers are loving and kind, that putting a child in a cage, as golden as it is, is different from protecting them?

She is looking down, lost in her own world, and she doesn’t see Robin until he encircles her in his arms from behind, bringing her against his solid chest.

“I’m sorry for what happened down there, I didn’t mean to frighten Miri,” she whispers in a throaty voice but he shakes his head.

“You didn’t my love, she was a bit taken aback sure, but you could never scare our girl,” he reassures her. “Can you tell me why you reacted like that?”

She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. “It’s just that stupid song, that stupid movie, I thought I could handle it but…” Her voice breaks and she trails off, he hugs her tighter.

“It reminded you of your mother,” he says and he had been by her side every step of the way during their stay in Hell, he remembers the reunion with Cora, the nightmares that had followed, how Regina had tried to hide them from him, but couldn’t when it would wake her, screaming, in the middle of the night.

He remembers the hatred he had felt towards the woman who had treated her like a puppet, how much he had wanted to make her pay, but Regina had wanted to leave this place at peace, so he had swallowed it all down, but now it all resurfaces as it threatens her relationship with Miriam.

“She is too young to understand,” Regina tells him but he shakes his head.

“I think you are underestimating our daughter, she is as smart as her mother.”

“Mama,” they hear calling from the bedroom’s entrance and they head to it.

“I asked you to wait downstairs, Miri,” Robin says, and the girl lowers her gaze, fidgeting.

“But I wanted to see Mama,” she replies in a small voice making Regina’s heart break.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” she tells Miriam, lowering herself to the ground, and her daughter runs into her arms.

“I’m sorry Mama, I didn’t mean to upset you, I won’t sing anymore,” Miri cries into her mother’s chest.

“And deprive me of your beautiful voice? No, that would be too awful for words, honey,” Regina argues in a broken voice, feeling guilty for causing her daughter such distress. “I’m the one who should apologize, I shouldn’t have yelled. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she strokes Miri’s back softly, feeling the tears soaking through the material of her blouse, holding back her own.

“But you didn’t like the song,” Miriam hiccups, and the sound tugs at Regina’s heartstrings.

“The song, yes,” she answers, because pretending would do no good. She stands up, Miri’s legs circling her waist tightly, and she sits down the bed, adjusting the girl on her lap to look at her properly. “Only the song, honey, never you.”

“Why did it make you sad?” Miriam asks, sniffling, resting her head against Regina’s shoulder, calming down under her mother’s caresses.

Regina looks up at Robin and he gives her an encouraging smile.

“It reminded me of some things from when I was a little girl,” she explains and Miri turns her big, blue, shining eyes towards her.

“Bad things?” She inquires.

Regina nods. “Yes, bad things. You see, my Mother was a bit like Mother Gothel with Rapunzel, she wanted to keep me all to herself, she wanted me to only do what she decided I should do,” the more she talks the quieter her voice becomes, as if she is trying to protect her daughter from hearing it all.

“Was she mean to you?” Miri wants to know, placing her little hand on Regina’s cheek, catching the tears her mother didn’t even feel start to fall.

“Sometimes. You see she didn’t know how to love very well, and she thought she was doing what was best for me. She didn’t realise it was hurting me,” Regina swallows with difficulty, thinking about a time where she wasn’t doing much better with her own son.

“But you always know what’s best for us. That’s why I liked the song,” Miriam admits, and Regina lets escape a sobbing chuckle.

“I didn’t always, Miri, but you have to believe me when I say I would never do to you what my mother did.”

Miriam looks at her, puzzled. “I know that,” she says, her blind and utter faith in her mother never questioned.

“We all do,” Henry announces from the doorway, his arm around Roland’s shoulders as they both smile softly.

They join mother and daughter on the bed and Robin follows, the five of them pressed together, the boys surrounding their girls with their arms and their love, forming a messy heap, and it feels like a balm on Regina’s heart. Her family put together after years of hardship and pain, but she would do it all all over again if it meant she would find herself here today.


End file.
